


Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick

by 74days



Series: Meet-Cute AU's [33]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bands, Financial Issues, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, alcoholic parent, change of guardian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky may or may not have over-reacted when his sister advised him that some creep had groped her. Going on the information that he was 'short and blond' resulted in him accidentally knocking out one very surprised Steve Rogers, art teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick

“He’s kinda short and blond.” Becca was telling him as Bucky scanned the club. “Angry looking, like he’s itching for a fight.” The club was packed, which was good for Bucky, especially as Winter Soldier were getting a cut at the door – nothing massive, but it was a step up from the weddings and garages that they currently played in. Becca was there for ‘moral support’ and also cause she didn’t mind helping them load up the van after the show with all their gear – and because she was Buckys little sister. She should have been at home, but with their mom gone and dad drunk, it was safer to keep her with them than it was leaving her there – despite the fact that some asshole had groped her.

“He grabbed your ass?” Clint was saying, spinning the drumstick in between his fingers and looking like he’d quite like to stab them through someone’s eye. Maybe some blond asshole who thought it was okay to grab a teenager in a packed club.

“Yeah.” Becca nodded. “Uh, I shoved him pretty hard.” She told them, and winced when Natasha cracked her knuckles. She never lost her temper, but that didn’t mean crap – her day job was a kickboxing instructor and despite her tiny frame, she was a powerhouse.

But Bucky wasn’t paying attention to that. His eyes were on the crowd, scanning. Blond, short – looking ready to fight. If he saw the guy who thought it was okay to grope his little sister, he was going to punch him so hard he’d be shitting teeth.

* * *

 

The first set was a little tough – the crowd were open to their sound but a couple of technical glitches (like the dodgy wiring on the mic) meant that they had to stop and start a few times. Sensing that it was about to all go horribly wrong, Bucky just waved Clint into an epic drum solo while he scrambled on the ground trying to find the loose wire. Clint was a good drummer – he could hold a good beat and his rhythm was top notch, but when he lost it – truly got into it, the man was a fucking legend. By the time Bucky had found the issue and MacGyvered a solution, the crowd was screaming for more, and Winter Soldier kicked off the night with a few heavy numbers to keep them jumping.

Becca was doing her homework in the back, keeping her headphones on as she listened to some pop crap that Bucky would never admit to loving –  ** _especially_**  not to her. Sometimes it felt like he should just give up on ever having a career on stage, he had a job that kept a roof over their heads because their father couldn’t hold down a job longer than a week and he’d probably get further if he wasn’t spending most of his nights working out new music, or trying to perfect a hook that just wasn’t sitting right with their sound…

But he fucking loved being on stage. He wouldn’t care if all he ever did were weddings or parties. He couldn’t give a shit if he never got further than a battle of the bands. He just wanted to stand on stage and do the one thing that made him feel like he was truly alive.

During the break a few people came up to them, panting and sweating and shouting about how much they loved the show. Throwing Clint sultry looks and getting winks and heated looks in return – he was a terrible flirt but he’d been dating Natasha (who watched him flirt with an eye roll and a little smirk) since he’d been old enough to hold her hand in the schoolyard. As far as Bucky knew, he’d never even kissed anyone else. Natasha didn’t get guys (or girls) coming over to her – mostly because she had a look that told people to steer clear, but Bucky knew that half the audience would try if they even  ** _thought_**  they had a chance.

Everyone flirted with Bucky though. As the guy in the front – the one on the mic, the one with the guitar and the ‘face’ of Winter Soldier, everyone wanted a bit of him. He smiled and nodded and didn’t accept any drinks, never took anyone back to his place (or their place, or  ** _any_**  place) and never flirted back. Clint thought it was funny, a waste, but Bucky had a plan – and his plan didn’t involve random hook-ups with strangers. So he spent the break arguing with the owners about the faulty wiring, negotiating a better rate for the next time they played (the crowd was loving them, he was sure they’d be booked again, and soon) and making sure that Becca had a bottle of water. He spent a few minutes making sure she was okay – getting grabbed had really shaken her – but she seemed fine, and where she was sitting backstage, no one from the crowd was able to get to her.

* * *

 

They did two songs for the encore, and left the stage while the crowd was still yelling for more. Although it was a good night, it wasn’t the best they’d played – and Bucky was pretty sure that the alcohol being served at the bar had something to do with the riotous applause. He wasn’t gonna complain though, because they club owner was hinting pretty strongly at calling them again – and soon. Bucky was feeling pretty awesome until he got backstage and saw a guy standing beside Becca. She had her headphones out, back to the wall – the half empty bottle of water in her hand. She looked pretty calm, but Bucky knew that his sister had always been good at looking calm when inside she was freaking out. She had enough practice with their dad.

The guy was short and blond – with a square jaw and a frown between his brows, and Bucky saw red. The asshole who groped his sister obviously didn’t get the memo when she shoved him earlier and was trying it on again – backstage where she was less likely to have people around her to protect her.

Bucky had crossed the narrow corridor in three steps, fist swinging out before the creep could get nearer his sister. “She’s 15 you asshole!” He snapped as the thin, blond fucker landed in a heap, the solid crack of Bucky’s fist landing almost perfectly on his jaw. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself next time!” He hissed, stepping forward, only to have Becca grab his shoulder.

“Jesus, Bucky!” She cried, hauling him backwards with all the strength she could. “It’s not the same guy!”

* * *

 

The guy on the floor was Steve Rogers. He had an icepack pressed against his jaw, which was already turning a mottled purple, while Becca fussed over him. Clint and Natasha, who had witnessed the whole thing, were torn between laughing their asses off and worried that the guy might press charges. Cause they didn’t earn near enough for Bucky to start acting like a total asshole to strangers – the group savings were all tied up in promotion and earmarked for getting Natasha a new keyboard.

Bucky was trying not to be overly apologetic and honestly sorry at the same time, and he wasn’t sure if he was just coming over as a jerk or an idiot.  Probably both.

“Hey, don’t mention it,” Steve was saying, as Becca fussed some more. Bucky thought she might have a crush. “Some guy grabbed you earlier, huh? Did you slap him?”

“I shoved him pretty hard.” She admitted, and got a smile – followed by a wince – for her trouble.

“Take a leaf out of your brothers page,” Steve said. “Punch first. Or a knee in the balls works too.”

The noise of the crowd was fading out – soon Bucky would have to go back out and start loading all their shit into the back of Clints beat up old van, but he didn’t want Steve to think that he was running away from his problems, so he was kind of hovering between his sister and the door. He could see Natasha say something to Clint in sign, but he wasn’t good enough to catch it. He could tell it was something positive about Steve though, because Clint grinned and nodded.

“Uh, I need to get the gear packed up.” He hedged, and both Becca and Steve looked up at him. Steve didn’t look half as glazed as he had a few minutes before, but Becca looked ready to start a fight.

“Really, James?” She said, packing about 40 years’ worth of disapproval into a glance. “You don’t think that maybe it might be a good idea to make sure Steve isn’t concussed? Or needs to be taken to the  ** _hospital_**?”

“Oh, god no!” Steve said, laughing. “I’m fine. Honest. Not the first time someone’s knocked me on my ass, probably won’t be the last.” He grinned up at Bucky, and for the first time in a really long time, Bucky’s gut flipped over. Steve had those sky blue eyes framed with thick blond lashes and Bucky was suddenly very aware of his smudged eyeliner and how his hair was damp with sweat. “Go get your gear stowed, I’m fine, I promise.”

* * *

 

Bucky didn’t facebook stalk Steve, but it didn’t matter – Becca  ** _did_**. She had already added him to her friend page by the time they were on the highway back to Clint’s place, reading out some of his statuses. “Oh, he was in a band too.” She burst out as Bucky wiped off the worst of the liner with the make-up remover that he kept in his stuff. He used to use water until Natasha threw a bottle of weird smelling blue stuff directly at his face one night and told him he was making her hurt just watching. The blue stuff worked a whole lot better than water, and didn’t leave him red-eyed and weepy looking. “Some guys called ‘The Howling Commandoes’, broke up last year.”

“Oh, I saw them once.” Natasha said from the front of the van. She got shotgun on account of Clint driving, and had her feet up on the dash. “I thought he looked familiar. Pretty good – they had a front girl, I think.”

“Peggy.” Becca filled in. “Uh, looks like she went back to England for school, and after that they just drifted apart. Their synth guy moved to Fresno and their bassist moved to Paris.” She paused and breathed: “ ** _Paris_**. Steve changed his status to ‘it’s complicated’ after Peggy moved, but he’s single now.”

“He’s way too old for you.” Bucky pointed out. He certainly didn’t like the flash of… jealousy… that burst through him, bright and sharp.

“Shut up.” Becca snapped, and even in the darkness of the van, Bucky knew she was blushing. “Anyway, he just updated his status – it’s a photo of his jaw. It’s turning black.” She glared at him, and he swiped the cotton pad over his eye. “Walked face first into an overprotective brother.” She paused. “I’ve liked it.”

“He can’t like your like.” Natasha pointed out, and Bucky resisted the urge to kick the back of her chair. He was pretty sure two broken legs weren’t worth it.

“Good point, I’m gonna say… ‘He thought you were someone else who’d been hassling me! Big brothers suck!”

A few moments later… “Oh! He liked it!”

* * *

 

Becca didn’t have a weekend job, Bucky wanted her to focus on school rather than be worried about shit like working too, but he worked at the gym where Natasha ran classes over the weekend, to subsidise his regular job as a security officer at Hammer Tech – a large tech company that paid okay as long as you kept your head down and mouth shut. Mostly his job was escorting people off the premises, or keeping protesters out of the building. It sucked, because he hated seeing people upset and nothing fucked with your head like frogmarching a sobbing 40 year old woman out of the building carrying a box with a photo frame and a potted plant in it.

His weekend job was better – he got a free gym membership out of it, and less people crying on him, which was a bonus. Not only that, but it was a cakewalk, and Becca was allowed to use the pool if she came over, which she did. Clint, who earned more than all of them combined with his country club classes where he taught archery to rich kids after school and stressed out businessmen through the week, could also be counted on showing up to hang out behind the reception desk. He had an unnatural fondness for sleeveless shirts and his upper arms were the reason that a lot of the ladies (and a few of the guys) would linger in the foyer as they signed up for classes for the week.

It was a quiet spell though – the New Year’s Resolution crowd were trickling out and the regulars didn’t really need anything but their locker keys and maybe a sign-up sheet for a new class. Bucky liked to use that time to network – he sent emails via his phone (tucked discreetly to one side in case his boss caught him) to clubs and venues with links to their webpage and rates. Clint knew a lot of people through his job, which helped – they’d worked a couple of sweet 16’s and charity events through the country club.

“Becca’s been rabbiting on about that Steve guy again.” Clint mentioned, as Bucky checked his email for typos. He’d never live down the ‘Weiner Soldier’ thing, and he wasn’t going to make that error in his lifetime. “This her first crush?”

“Yeah, think so.” Bucky muttered. He heard about Steve all the damn time. Did he know Steve could sing too? Did he know Steve worked as an art teacher at the local high school? Did he know Steve’s ex-girlfriend was super cute? Did he know Steve was super straight and did he know that Bucky had no fucking chance?

The last couple of points probably weren’t something Becca would have said, but that didn’t stop them from being true – Steve Rogers was a good guy who was nice to some random 15 year old when he didn’t have to be. “She’s mentioned him once or twice.”

“S’cute.” Clint said, before pulling out a black notebook. “I had this idea…. Uh… I didn’t mention it to Nat.” He said, looking around as though simply saying her name would cause her to appear. “It’s probably stupid.”

Bucky nodded and took the notebook. Clint didn’t write, he found it hard – nothing Bucky ever looked down on him for – but he had a great concept of flow and rhythm. “Okay,” Bucky said, grabbing the pen from the desk and sitting forward. “Tell me.”

An hour later, interrupted only once by a class ending and people returning their locker keys, Bucky had a firm outline of a song a little more mellow than their usual stuff. “You know, man, this would be a great wedding song.” Bucky pointed out. “Like, first dance kind of thing.”

He left work that day, with Becca tucked under his arm and smelling faintly of chlorine and a new song tucked deep into his backpack, feeling like nothing could go wrong.

* * *

 

Obviously, he jinxed himself.

* * *

 

There was a car in the drive when Bucky and Becca rounded the corner from the bus stop, and Bucky could feel the way Becca’s shoulders slumped a little as they walked together, his arm thrown around her neck, a laugh dying on her lips as Bucky had teased her about the lifeguard at the pool who perked up every time she’d show up at his work. At 6pm, their dad should still have been at his job at the airport, slinging baggage. The car meant 2 things. The first was that their father had forgotten to go to work and was drunk off his ass,  ** _or_**  he’d gone to work drunk off his ass and got fired. Neither one was good news. Bucky had just enough in his account to pay the rent and bills, not quite enough to also stretch to groceries or travel to and from work. At least he’d bought Becca a bus pass earlier in the week that would cover  ** _her_**  travel for the month.

“Hey, you know, I’m pretty sure there’s a bag of fries and chicken wings in the deep freeze.” He pointed out. He fucking hated chicken wings, but Becca loved them. “You up to making that fancy sauce you won’t tell me the recipe for tonight? We could have a feast, watch a movie.”

“Not hungry,” Becca said, shrugging out from under his arm and storming ahead. By the time Bucky had caught up, she was in the house and stomping up the stairs – her room door slamming hard enough to shake the house.

“God damn it!” A booming voice roared from the couch in the living room. “What the hell did you do this time? She’s getting worse and you aint helping, pissin’ her off all the damn time!”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, seeing the boots and high-viz jacket thrown on the floor. Fired, then, Bucky figured. “Sorry, dad. I’ll do better.”

The grunt from the couch was non-committal. Bucky didn’t need to go into the room to see the beer cans scattered around. He could smell them from the hall.

* * *

 

He let Becca sit on his bed and watch a movie while she ate her plate of fries and chicken. There had been less in the freezer than he’d expected, which sucked – and not for the first time he wished he’d been one of those crazy coupon ladies, the ones with the 500 juice boxes and 40 packs of toilet roll stashed in the garage. He’d worked it out that if he was careful, they could probably have enough for a week, and if he skipped dinner without Becca noticing, about a week and a half. It wasn’t too bad, he thought, swapping between the household budget and the song he’d been working on with Clint.  He could skip his dad’s car payments for a month, and that could cover his travel expenses – he could add a minor chord change there and the whole song could have a slightly mournful edge, or a major which would lift it up. He’d need to go over it with Clint to see how he wanted it to go, but he was fairly sure that the whole thing was some ass backwards declaration of love so probably the hopeful one.

“Steve’s going to be at Shield tonight.” Becca said, looking up from her phone. “Rumlow is playing.”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, trying not to look like he was stressing over the household budget. The less Becca worried the better. “You hate Rumlow.” A pause. “ ** _Everyone_**  hates Rumlow.”

“That’s because they’re trash.” Becca shot back. Rumlow, a band fronted by Brock ‘ _originality isn’t my strong point’_  Rumlow, beat them out at last year’s battle of the bands, held at the Red Rooms. Bucky had found out later that Brock had been screwing one of the judges, and although he’d like to think that wasn’t the reason they’d won, he also kinda did. Because Rumlow sucked, and Winter Soldier were an awesome band.

“Hmmm.” Bucky said, turning back to his notebook. “Steve maybe aint the shit no more, huh?”

“Shut up.” Becca shot back, blushing deep.

* * *

 

“Oh my god!” Becca said over her bowl of store brand Cheerios. “Rumlow got booed off the stage last night!”

* * *

 

“I got a call from Shield.” Bucky said when they arrived at Clint’s garage. When Bucky’s mom had been around, back when they were in high school, she used to drop him off when she took Becca to dance, but now he brought her (and her homework) on the bus. He knew that dragging her around wasn’t the best option, but the only other thing he could do was leave her at home while he went out. He didn’t like to do that, it was one of the reasons he didn’t take the job as a night watch guard even though the cash was better. Leaving Becca alone (or with their father) just didn’t sit right with him. Of course, Becca never complained. She was pretty popular with her friends – having a brother in a band was pretty cool at 15, especially because Clint sometimes saw her hanging out with friends at the mall and would always say hey and buy her a shake or whatever. At 15 guys like Clint knowing your name was a big deal. Natasha didn’t look like the type of girl who liked make-up and hair, but she did – she was probably the reason that Becca wasn’t wearing make-up four inches thick – Nat was stunning and she’d been pretty brutal about Becca’s first attempt with blush and eye shadow. Bucky sometimes wondered if they did a better job at bringing Becca up than their parents ever did.

“Yeah?” Clint said, grabbing a beer and popping the top with a practiced ease. In about 10 minutes, a few of Becca’s friends would show up and sit giggling in the corner while the band worked on their set lists, sharing a coke and pretending to do homework.

“Yeah, they, uh, wanna know if we can play on Friday.”

“I’m good.” Clint said, spinning his drumsticks around his fingers like a baton. “Got a lesson at 4 then I’m free. Time it start?”

“9 till 12, 10 min break.”

“I’m in.” Natasha said. “Last class on a Friday is noon.”

Bucky nodded. “I’ve got work till 6, but you can pick me up from there so we can set up?”

“Need me to pick-up Becca from school?” Clint asked, eyes darting to where Bucky’s sister was setting up a few more lawn chairs than he was expecting.

“You havin a party over there?” He called over, and rolled his eyes when he was pointedly ignored. “Yeah, if you could, man.”

“No worries. She  ** _loves_**  me. I’ll get the gun show out.” He kissed his bicep and got an eye roll from his girlfriend for the trouble.

* * *

 

They were about to start on their first run through when Becca looked up from her little gaggle of friends and let out a little squeak, which she instantly tried to pretend that she’d done nothing of the sort. “Steve!” she said, calling over the beat Clint was laying down, and Bucky felt his heart hit his feet. Steve was probably about his age, maybe a year or two younger, and far too fucking old to be hanging out with a 15 year old. Especially a 15 year old who was also Bucky’s responsibility.

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha said, sounding bored. “I told him to come over on Facebook, he lives like, four streets down.”

“Heads up next time?” Bucky snapped, and then wished he’d just shut his damn mouth because Natasha’s eyebrows shot up and Clint grinned like his head was gonna split in two.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” He teased, and Bucky was well aware that he shared Becca’s stupid blush because he could feel his face burning despite the open garage doors letting in the cool air.

“Seriously, just drop it.” Bucky said, busying himself with the set list they were going to run through, “It’s nothing.”

“Hey Steve,” Natasha called out, cutting over Bucky’s hiss at Clint. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

Bucky had forgotten that Steve’s voice was quite so deep, and his laugh was a big thing. “This is Sam.” Steve was saying, walking into the garage and giving Becca a wave. “He’s unfortunately straight, but he makes up for it by having  ** _excellent_**  taste in best friends.” He paused. “Hi again, Bucky.”

“Hi.” Bucky managed, aware he was glaring at the set list in front of him.

“Ah, this is the guy that lamped you, huh?” Sam, the best friend said, sounding dryly amused and Bucky was aware he wasn’t giving the best impression but Becca had a crush and he was worried he did too – and Bucky didn’t have time for tiny cute guys with big blue eyes and lashes longer than they needed to be. Bucky had bills to pay and rent to make and a sister that needed him.

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, and he didn’t sound pissed, just amused – like getting himself knocked on his ass was a common, every day thing. “Sam, meet Bucky, Bucky, Sam.” He said, waving a thin hand over them both.

“We talking or playing?” Bucky managed, and then felt like a fucking idiot when Natasha gave him a pointed look and Steve and his not-a-boyfriend laughed, like Bucky had been deliberately funny, cracking some joke and not actually dying – wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Becca was shooting him a look that wasn’t amused though, probably pissed he was ruining her nice little day dream where she was old enough to date Steve or something.

* * *

 

Bucky wasn’t the best guitar player in the world – he could carry a tune and he looked good – but he knew he could sing. He let the sound keep him right as his fingers moved, but when he sang he really felt like he  ** _got_**  it. It was something he apparently inherited from his mom, his voice – she would sing all the time, sing Becca to sleep, sing when she was cooking.

Becca might not remember her, but Bucky did, and it was hard – hard to think of her and their dad. Smiling, laughing. When she left, so did he, kinda – checked out of reality. Started drinking and didn’t stop. There was an 9 year difference between Bucky and his little sister, but the older she got the bigger that gap seemed to get. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain that college was a fucking pipe dream unless she managed to get a full ride. Bucky had given up on college – he didn’t want Becca to have to miss out…

The set was done. He’d just ran through the whole thing on autopilot, hardly even paying attention to what he was singing or playing, mind churning everything over. He was pretty sure no one noticed – Becca and her friends were giving out ‘whoops’ and clapping, so at least their most faithful fans were happy. Steve and Sam were clapping and nodding too – not that Bucky really cared too much about either of  ** _those_**  guys. At all. Nope. Natasha was talking to them as Bucky checked over the list, and Clint slid up beside Bucky. “You okay, man?” He asked, “You totally checked out about 5 seconds in.”

“I’m fine. Just… you know… home shit.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. I gotta decide if I wanna eat or pay the mortgage.”

Clint nodded. He used to live with his brother Barney – before he got his job at the country club and could afford a nice place like the one he had now, and knew exactly what Bucky was going through. Natasha had a good idea, but no first-hand experience.

“Dude, you know you guys can crash here whenever – did you talk to the lawyer?”

The lawyer – some guy who took a shine to Clint – had been trying to help Bucky get guardianship over Becca, get his name on the mortgage (since he was the one paying it) but the whole thing had stalled. His dad refused to even talk to the guy, and Bucky had enough fighting and yelling in the last couple of months to last him is whole life.

“Hey!” Natasha called over, “Pizza?” Meaning Bucky didn’t have to reply, because Becca was bounding over, friends already gone – and Bucky realised that saying no would result in a moody strop. Clint backed up, aware that the conversation was over without pushing Bucky for more. The reason he was the  ** _best_**  best friend in the world.

“Sure, if you’re paying.”

* * *

 

Bucky was standing in the kitchen, washing up the piles of plates that Clint had left at his ass, because Bucky hated to see mess. Becca was already crashed out and had been carried upstairs to the bed kept just for that reason, and he could hear the TV playing some crappy horror movie that Sam had picked. Bucky had only meant to put the leftover pizza in the fridge, but he’d gotten distracted by the mess, and had a steady growing pile of clean plates and bowls forming on his left.

“Hey,” A now familiar voice said, deeper than it should be, still confusing him a little. Turning, he saw Steve grab a terry cloth and the first dish, wiping it dry. “Need a hand?”

Steve didn’t give him a chance to say no – he just started talking. “I get the feeling you were kinda pissed we showed up tonight.” Steve said, drying the damp plates. “I thought Becca or Natasha might have told you, they both knew in advance. Natasha invited us.” He put the now dry plate on the counter and grabbed another. “I’ve actually seen you guys play a few times – uh, at Red Rooms and Hydra – Sam hadn’t though. You might have a new fan.” He laughed, “Although I think he’s just clicked that Natasha is seeing Clint, maybe not as big of a fan as he was  ** _gonna_**  be.”

“They’ve been dating since kindergarten.” Bucky supplied, handing a plate over.

“Yeah? That’s cute.” A pause. “You seeing anyone?”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “Not a lot of guys wanna date a dude with two jobs and no car, never mind one who comes with a 15 year old, a mortgage and more issues than a bag of cats.”

“I didn’t know you were into guys.” Steve said, pausing his drying to look up at Bucky.

“Gonna be an issue?” Bucky said, voice flat. He really wasn’t in the mood for the ‘no homo’ speech from a guy he liked. Kinda liked. Whatever.

“What?” Steve said, sounding confused. “No, that’s  ** _great_**. I mean… you know… I’m single. I mean, I’m  ** _Bi_**.” A pause. “Uh, I mean – I know what it’s like. People aint rounding the corner for a skinny nerd with medical bills coming out of his ass either.”

Steve being Bi was probably the worst thing Bucky had ever heard in his life. He’d managed to convince himself that the reason he didn’t have a chance was because the smaller guy was straight. Knowing that Steve was also into guys meant that Bucky maybe  ** _could_**  have a chance with him – and that was worse.

Bucky didn’t date.  ** _Couldn’t_**  date. How the hell would he find the time for another person? Leave Becca at home while he went out? How could he afford dinner and a movie when he had to pick what bills he could skip so they could eat? Which of his two jobs would he have to give up in order to find the time to see another person? Leave the band?

“Cool.” He said, because he couldn’t think of another fucking thing to say – mostly because he was  ** _pathetic_**. All he could think about was how nice it would be to actual go out with someone like Steve, what it would be like not to have to think about everyone else first for once. He suddenly felt like fucking crying. Pathetic.

“Uh, yeah.” Steve said, and smiled. He didn’t look like he wanted to smile though. “Good set tonight.” He said, changing the subject quickly. “Clint mentioned that you’d be playing Shield on Friday?”

“Yeah, they called yesterday. Think we’re filling in for Rumlow.” He admitted. It was really the only thing that made sense – Shield was normally good at booking a band months in advance, the short notice meant that they’d been caught short.

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, before blushing a little. “I mean, not that you guys aren’t awesome, but uh, Rumlow won’t be playing Shield again. Brock got into a fight with Fury.” Fury, the guy that ran Shield, wasn’t the type of guy you got into fights with. “We’ve got tickets.” Steve said, putting another dry plate on the stack. “If that’s cool?”

“Yeah, course.” Bucky said, draining the murky water out of the sink. Clint was fucking gross. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Uh, no reason.” Steve said. “Just… you know.”

“I’m gonna check on Becca.” Bucky said, “Thanks for the help.”

“Uh… yeah. Okay.”

* * *

 

Steve had requested him as a friend on Facebook that night. Bucky had a minor panic at what he should do, but it would be weird if he ignored the request – especially since they had like, 5 mutual friends.

* * *

 

The week carried on. Bucky still hated working at Hammer Tech, Becca still bitched about having to take the bus to school when there was a car in the drive, their dad still bitched about the ‘missing’ booze, and Steve was still gonna be at Shield on Friday night.

* * *

 

Becca and Natasha were already setting up when Bucky arrived. Clint had picked him up from work so he wouldn’t have to worry about busses, and he got a wave from them both as he trudged up to see Nick Fury in his office. He’d had a particularly rough day and the owner of Shield wasn’t known for going easy on their performers. When he’d called to tell Bucky he wanted a meeting before they started, his heart sunk to his knees.

* * *

 

Bucky got through the first set without a single hitch. They knew what the crowd wanted, and played a lot of classic rock songs rather than their own stuff, but he’d snuck a few in too – they went down well so he was happy. About half way through the set though, he’d spotted Steve and Sam. Well, mostly Steve – his blond head on the floor was easy to spot, despite being shorter than most of the crowd.

They only had a 10 minute break, so when they’d finished the last song in the first set, Bucky ushered them off quickly.

“Where’s the damn fire?” Clint said, as Bucky practically frogmarched them into the back room.

“Look, I spoke to Fury.” Bucky said, the moment the door was shut. “He’s looking for a house band. Tuesdays and Thursday. He’s seen our stuff, thinks we can do it.”

Natasha nodded. “How long for?”

“Indefinitely.”

“Fucking right!” Clint crowed – a massive grin on his face. “How much they paying?”

“Same as tonight, basic rate with a cut on the door. We’ll get paid more at Red Rooms, but… I mean, this is a  ** _steady_**  gig.” Steady was solid gold for Bucky. Steady meant that he’d have a guaranteed income. A little more work would be needed to change up their sets on a regular basis, but as far as he was concerned, it was  ** _awesome_**.

“I’m in.” Natasha said, after a few seconds. Clint whooped, and Bucky went back out on stage feeling like a fucking rockstar.

* * *

 

Steve had posted a few pictures of the night on his facebook page, and had tagged them all in them. Mostly they were of the band, which Bucky liked quickly. There were a few really good ones too – one of him standing on stage, eyes closed, really getting into the music. Someone he didn’t know had commented on it. ‘ _Are you tapping that yet?_ ’ but when Bucky went back to it a few seconds later, the comment was gone, leaving Bucky wondering if he’d imagined it. He liked the picture anyway – shared it to the ‘official’ page for the band and spent much too long looking at the other pictures Steve had taken.

He took a lot of pictures. Not a lot of himself, which was annoying, but a lot of his friends. And he tagged everything, with little comments on each picture, most of them dry and funny and a few making Bucky snort with laughter. He clicked through them, not really thinking much, until he saw a few pictures of nights out from a while before.

Steve had mentioned that he’d seen Winter Soldier perform before – but that was before they’d been facebook friends. The time stamp clearly showed that the pictures were almost 2 years old, and it wasn’t so much the picture of him standing on stage that made him pause, as the comments below.

_Steve Rogers: Hot damn!! :O_

_Peggy Carter: I told you he was gorgeous. Did you talk to him?_

_Gabe Jones: He just drooled most of the night and then chickened out_

_Steve Rogers: I did not! I had to leave!!_

_Peggy Cater: Pathetic._

Taking a deep breath, Bucky found his fingers hovering over the keypad. He wanted to say something. Something funny and self-depreciating and cool. Something that didn’t make him look like the asshole all his previous encounters with Steve had resulted in.

Because Steve liked him. Steve had liked him for a  ** _while_** , maybe.

He liked Peggy’s comment about being pathetic.

An hour later he went back and  ** _unliked_**  it, because he was panicking and just as pathetic as she thought Steve was.

* * *

 

**_Unknown number:_ ** _Hey, uh, this is Steve Rogers. Natasha gave me your number I hope you don’t mind?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _No, that’s cool._

**_Steve R:_ ** _So, funny thing, I got this notification that you liked a comment on a post of mine, but I couldn’t see it._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Oh, probably just one of the band, I shared it with the group page, I hope you don’t mine?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _Mind**_

**_Steve R:_ ** _That’s awesome. :)_

**_Bucky:_ ** _They were really good, you could do it for a living_

**_Steve R:_ ** _I do wedding photography sometimes. Nothing official, just a bobby._

**_Steve R:_ ** _hobby! You know what I meant!_

**_Bucky:_ ** _lol – yeah. That’s really cool. Maybe you could take some pictures of the band sometimes, for the page? We’d pay you._

**_Steve R:_ ** _Yeah I could do that. When would be good?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _Anytime. Practice is on Sunday?_

**_Steve R:_ ** _It’s a date!_

**_Steve R:_ ** _I mean, a date for the pictures!_

**_Steve R:_ ** _Not a date like a date date._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Yeah, I knew what you meant._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Sunday at 6._

**_Steve R:_ ** _I’ll ne there_

**_Bucky:_ ** _cool_

* * *

 

**_Bucky:_ ** _Do you need anything set up for Sunday? Lighting?_

**_Steve R:_ ** _I’ll bring my own stuff, it’s cool. A Dr Pepper wouldn’t go amiss though_

**_Bucky:_ ** _Cool. Sorry if you were at work._

**_Steve R:_ ** _My class doesn’t show for another hour, I’m just killing time. You?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _On my break. Work at Hammer Tech._

**_Steve R:_ ** _I thought you worked at the gym? Natasha said. Not a stalker!!_

**_Bucky:_ ** _At weekends. Two jobs.Youre totally a stalker._

Bucky watched the little dot dot dot and wondered if the tone he was trying to go for had fallen flat. The longer the text didn’t pop up, the more nervous he got. Fuck. He was half way through typing his apology when:

**_Steve R:_ ** _LOL – yeah, probably look like one right now!! Honestly tho, it’s cool you have the two jobs – not a lot of people could do that, and the band too. It was hard with the one job and trying to organise a band, couldn’t think what it would be like with two. And becca._

**_Steve R:_ ** _Not that beeca is a job just mean itmust be hard_

**_Bucky:_ ** _She’s a full time job – you obviously aint got a sister!! LOL_

Bucky bit his lip. Was the LOL too much? Shit, what was he even doing texting Steve at all? All he’d been able to think about was the fact that Steve had (a few years ago) thought he was hot and it was like a fucking constant loop in his head. Cause Steve was hot. Steve was  ** _really_**  hot – for all he was short, he had a jaw you could probably crack rocks with, and his fucking eyes were bluer than the sky. Bucky didn’t have time for a crush. Two jobs, the band, Becca, his dad… he didn’t have  ** _time_** …

**_Steve R:_ ** _Only child here! First bell gone, gotta get ready for the howling masses… I mean ‘my hardworking students’_

**_Bucky:_ ** _See you Sunday_

* * *

 

Becca had been told in advance that she wasn’t allowed to invite her friends over for practice because Steve was going to need the extra room to set up his stuff. She’d sulked a little, but perked up a bit when her friends decided to go to the movies instead. He parted with the last $10 in his wallet and tried to look like he had cash to spare, but it was worth it for her squeal – he couldn’t remember the last time they’d gone to the movies.

He was glad she wasn’t going to be around, which was horrible – and a little surprised that she’d rather go out with her friends than stare at Steve for a couple of hours – but whatever. It meant that Bucky might not feel so weird, crushing on her crush. Jesus, he  ** _was_**  pathetic.

“You okay?” Clint asked, as Bucky helped set up the garage. Because they all got off at the same time on a Sunday, their rehearsals were a bit more relaxed – but Bucky felt even more on edge. Steve was gonna be over soon, and Bucky had never been in a ‘photoshoot’ before.

“Just nervous about the pictures.” Bucky shrugged. “You think we’re gonna look like jerks?”

“I’m pretty sure Steve knows what he’s doing.” Clint shrugged. “And if they suck, we don’t have to use em.” He threw Bucky a pointed look. “Just the pictures, huh?”

Bucky could do two things. He could admit that he kinda liked Steve, or he could deflect.

“Becca took the last of my cash.” He said, and hated how instantly Clint nodded and dropped the subject. His best friend knew how touchy the subject made him, and Bucky felt like a total asshole for using that as an excuse.

* * *

 

The thing was, Steve arrived, set up, and then told them to ignore him completely. Easier said than done for Bucky, but Clint and Natasha just got on with it. With having a steady line of gigs set up for the foreseeable future, they really needed to work on more stuff – they couldn’t play the same songs every night. So they ran through some old classics they hadn’t played in a while, a little rusty and fucking up a few times – cracking up laughing when Bucky got muddled up and played a completely different tune to the one they were singing. Through it all though, Steve was walking around and clicking. He didn’t really say much, grinning when Bucky would catch his eye, but aside from that… nothing.

* * *

 

“I can do some profiles, if you like?” Steve asked, once they’d agreed to give it a rest.

“Just do Bucky.” Natasha said, walking through to the house. “I need a massage, my back hurts.”

“I wanted a picture!” Clint complained, but dutifully followed Natasha into the house. “Bros before ho’s.” He said, over his shoulder.

“Uh…”

“We’re the ho’s in that scenario.” Bucky explained. “You need help packing up?”

Steve shook his head. “I mean, I can still do your single shot?” He added. “I mean, I’m set up anyway, and it won’t take long.”

“I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “Unless you wanna get home?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m okay. Do you have to pick up Becca later?”

“She’s gonna have a sleepover with her friend and go to school direct tomorrow.” Bucky said, unsure if he should pick up his guitar again or not. “They’ve got a debate tomorrow on sexism in the workplace or something like that.”

“Sounds cool.” Steve said, before lifting his camera and taking a snap of Bucky.

“Hey!” He exclaimed. “I wasn’t ready!”

“Candid’s.” Steve shrugged, and laughed at Bucky’s expression.

* * *

 

Bucky sat at work and stared at the TV screens in front of him like a zombie. Steve had kissed him. He’d been directing Bucky into some poses – with the guitar, without – moving in certain ways to catch the best light – whatever. Bucky wasn’t even sure what happened, but one moment he was standing grinning at the man behind the camera, and the next his back hit the wall and Steve was kissing him. Not a polite kiss either. A kiss that clearly telegraphed that at one point clothing would be optional. Bucky could still feel the press of lips on his, the warmth of Steve tongue as they became more frantic. Christ, kissing Steve Rogers was **_all_** Bucky wanted to do – and the smaller man seemed more than happy to climb Bucky like a tree, gripping Buckys hips between his thighs and grinding – teeth digging into Bucky’s full bottom lip and pulling.

Just thinking about it had his stomach clenching, and he tried to shake his head before he got a fucking boner at work. He was so screwed. Steve was a great guy – a **_teacher_** , jesus – who didn’t have half of Bucky’s shit, and didn’t deserve it either.

“I can see you freaking out.” Steve had said, once they’d finally been able to pull away. His lips were swollen and the blue of his eyes almost vanished, pupils blown wide. “This was okay, right? I mean… you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah.” Bucky had breathed, and was rewarded with a bright smile. “It’s… its just I can’t… I don’t…”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Steve laughed, kissing him again, lightning quick, before pulling back further. “If I’m reading this all wrong I’m sorry. I do that, sometimes.”

“No, I want this.” He’d said, too fast, far too fast. “But… look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just can’t.”

“It’s not you it’s me?” Steve shrugged, sounding completely nonchalant but his eyes had been hurting. Big and blue and really fucking hurting.

“No!” Bucky said, “Well… yeah. It is me. I’ve got… this whole shit situation going on and I can’t… I just don’t…”

“It’s cool.” Steve shrugged. “I’ll get these pictures looked at and send you the files when I’m done.”

And then he’d left.

Just grabbed his gear and walked out of the garage, leaving Bucky feeling like utter shit. He’d packed up the gear, locked up the garage, and took the bus home.

* * *

 

“Who’s Phil Coulson?” Becca asked, sitting at the dinner table that night. Their dad wasn’t at home – Bucky had picked his sister up from her afterschool classes and the car wasn’t in the driveway, so they’d decided to have a clean-up and a proper sit-down meal. Becca was good at picking up on his moods and probably could tell he was fucking miserable over something, she was good like that.

“How the hell do you know who that is?” Bucky said, panic in his gut. Phil was the lawyer that Clint had set him up with, the one he’d never called back after trying to talk to his dad about their situation. Becca was never involved – she didn’t need to know that Bucky had been trying to split up their already broken family.

“I don’t.” She said, looking at her plate. “I just saw the letter on the table when we were clearing up dad’s stuff.”

‘Dads stuff’ had been the empty cans and bottles laying around, take-away food wrappers and general trash. He’d been spending his last pay pretty nicely while Bucky was trying to keep a fucking roof over his drunk ass.

“He’s a lawyer.” Bucky shrugged. “Was trying to help us out a little.”

“With  ** _custody_**?” Her voice sounded dangerous, and Bucky just knew she was gonna fly off the handle.

“It was just an idea.” He tried to defend himself. “I already do all that shit anyways, and it would mean that I could sign all your forms for school.” He paused. “I could go to your parents meetings rather than dad.”

Her last parent meeting had been a fucking disaster, she’d been hysterical and Bucky had needed to go in the next day and apologise for his dad, smooth things over with the school. The only reason they hadn’t called social services was because Bucky was over 21. The school had already changed her emergency contact to him – she’d made him promise never tell their dad about a parent night again. “I just thought-”

“You didn’t even bother telling me!” She said, and he could see that she was controlling her temper, knuckles white on her fork and knife.

“If it got off the ground!” He snapped. “Of course I would. Shit, Becca, he went **_insane_**. Said I was destroying our family.” He looked over at her, the angry tears in her eyes. “Becca, I just wanted what’s best for you, I swear to god.”

She looked at him, eyes hard. “He signed the forms.”

“No, he didn’t.” Bucky said, looking down. “He threatened to throw me out if I brought it up again, so I dropped it. I’m not gonna leave you here.” He promised. “I’m not.”

“He signed the forms.” She repeated, getting to her feet and walking out of the kitchen, leaving her half eaten food on the plate.

Bucky’s head hit the table. Fuck his life.

* * *

 

“Mr Barnes, this is Phil Coulson.”

“Uh, hi.” Bucky  stumbled. Although he’d given the lawyer his work number, he certainly hadn’t expected the man to call him – especially since he’d pretty much ignored him since the disastrous talk with his dad.

“I’m sorry to call you at work, but I’ve received paperwork with your fathers signature that will start the ball rolling on your guardianship claim.” He said, sounding pretty pleased. “I should also point out that your sister has also attached a letter describing at length the reasons your claim should go through.” A pause, as papers were shuffled around. “The house is unfortunately still an issue we’ve been unable to resolve, but the good news is, if you decide to leave the property, you will not be held liable for the outstanding payments.”

* * *

 

Three months later, Bucky was the legal guardian of his little sister. He rented a small two bedroom apartment closer to his work and Becca’s school, and without all the additional bills that came with the big house, he actually had some money left over at the end of the month. Nothing huge, but more than before. Becca seemed to be happier, although he could tell she felt guilty about leaving their dad to look after himself.

“I gotta do what’s best for us.” Bucky told her, when they moved out. “I’m not saying he can’t be in our lives, just… he’s gotta  ** _want_**  that.”

Steve hadn’t contacted him.

Bucky tried not to care.

* * *

 

Tuesday nights at Shield were surprisingly busy – they could normally fill the dance floor by the end of the night, and Bucky was more than happy with the rates Fury was paying them. Becca, now 16 years old and dating the lifeguard at the gym (how Bucky didn’t see that coming, he had no fucking clue, because the kid blushed beetroot whenever she was in the room) was dancing to one side of the stage and Steve still hadn’t called.

He  ** _was_** , however, in the crowd.

* * *

 

They got 15 minutes for a break between sets, and when he jumped off the stage, Becca was there, chatting animatedly with Steve, who looked slightly overwhelmed with whatever Becca was chattering on about.

“If Fury catches you here, Becca, he’s gonna throw us all out.” He reminded her. The owner knew Bucky brought her along, under the very strict rule that she was backstage with a stamp on the back of her palm declaring her underage.

“Yeah, I was just talking to Steve.” She shot back, eyes rolling, before sauntering backstage with Natasha and Clint.

“I missed her sweet 16th.” Steve said, looking a little pained. “I saw it on Facebook, but…” He shrugged. “She was just filling me in.”

“Look, Steve,” Bucky said, taking a breath. “I’m really fucking sorry abou-”

“I didn’t call you because I felt like crap about leaving and I once I got over being butthurt about the whole thing, I realised I’d been pretty shitty to you.” Steve cut him off. “I knew that you had some stuff going on, and I knew that you weren’t looking for anything, and I knew that I’d pretty much ignored all of that because of what  ** _I_**  wanted.” He took a breath, still talking fast, like he wanted to get everything out all at once. “By the time I worked all of that out, it just felt like too late to say sorry, and then I heard from Becca that you’ve had to go through this whole custody thing with her, and I felt even worse because I just left rather than be a good friend or whatever and I just… acted like a total asshole who only wanted one thing and that’s… shit, that’s like the exact  ** _opposite_**  of what I wanted.” He paused and took another breath. “I wanna be your friend, and I’m sorry I acted like a total punk.”

Bucky was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. He’d never actually heard a single person use so many words at one time in his life, and he’d been on the receiving end of Becca’s feminist rants more than once (he totally agreed it was fucked up, no he didn’t think feminism was a dirty word, yes he made sure Natasha got the same cut as he and Clint did) and still he’d never heard anyone talk quite so much at once.

“Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

* * *

 

It lasted about a week before Bucky pinned him to the couch and kissed the smaller man senseless. He really should have remembered that Becca was due back from her date, because if he had he certainly wouldn’t have let things go as far as they did – she was currently arguing that she was scared for life after seeing her brother about three buttons away from giving a blowjob.

* * *

 

Steve had a nice little house, two bedrooms and a study that he used to mark his students work. And a good sized yard in the back that Bucky fucking loved. He liked mowing the lawn – loved the smell.  It made sense after they’d been dating for a while (or  ** _not_**  dating, as the case was – Bucky still wasn’t sure if staying in every other night and watching Netflix counted as dating) for 6 months, that moving into Steves place made sense. The mortage had been paid off years ago when Steve’s mom (who bought the house) passed away – leaving Steve with her house and her medical bills. He was still paying those off, and Bucky helping with the bills made a big difference for both of them.

Bucky bought a car.

He wasn’t quite sure why, but the car felt like it meant something – they’d drive around sometimes, just burning gas, Becca in the backseat chattering away, maybe going to a drive through and just being pretty happy together.

* * *

 

There were bad days. The days when Bucky had to drive to some bar to pick up his dad in the middle of the afternoon, the weeks Steve spent in the hospital when he got pneumonia and nearly scared Bucky and Becca half to death by stopping breathing in the middle of the night. The days Becca locked herself in her room after she found out there wasn’t a college fund, that her 3.4 wasn’t enough for the ride she’d need.

The day their dad died.

But for all those days were hard, there were good days that balanced them out. The day that Bucky got promoted to head of security at Hammer Tech and didn’t tell anyone for a whole month so that he could take everyone out for dinner to celebrate.

The day Clint **_finally_** played the song he wrote with Bucky to Natasha in his garage and got on one knee, a simple ring held in his shaking hands. Her dumbstruck nod.

The day Bucky and Becca got home to find a tiny beagle puppy with a giant red bow tied around his neck, slobbering and so excited that he peed all over the kitchen floor and Bucky wasn’t even mad when he had to clean it up, because Becca was crying so hard.

They day she got her grade card back with its proud 4.0 – months of cramming with Steve and Bucky helping out all they could, letters of recommendation from her teachers. The day she got her acceptance into college with a good enough scholarship that she could actually go if she didn’t mind living at home still (she didn’t until 2nd year where she rented a really shitty apartment with two other girls and some stoner dude with a guitar that thought he was the shit).

The day Steve got home from chaperoning a school trip to New York and Bucky had redecorated most of the house (yeah, okay, the contractor didn’t finish the bathroom on time, but dude – look at the tiles in the kitchen!) complete with a skylight in the study so Steve could have better lighting when he painted.

Their wedding.

* * *

 

Yeah, that was a good day.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, this one got away from me again.   
> I really should have some kind of plan when writing so that I don't just keep word vomiting all over the page and then wondering why I've got no idea where the plot is going.
> 
> I liked this one, although I'm aware that I'm having a lot of 'Bucky Centric' plots which I'm going to try to fix ASAP. 
> 
> The prompt was: Sorry I punched you, I thought you were someone else. 
> 
> ps: I signed up for the Edinburgh MoonWalk last week, and have started training already. Man, I feel super fit.  
> In other news: I started 30 Day Shred last week and I feel like death. I'm going to die of a heart attack. I managed three days before I had to stop - I couldn't walk I was hurting too bad.   
> In more news: I totally love you all, your comments got me through a tough week, so thank you!


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